


Heart of Gold

by softelytras



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Conflict, Dream Smp, Everyone is friends, Gen, King!George, Kings & Queens, M/M, No Smut, Sad Ending, cool creepy castles, dream is a little rebel, dream smp but make it knight au, feel good fic, george wants friends, knight!dream, knight!sapnap, platonic, you'll probably cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softelytras/pseuds/softelytras
Summary: twitter has been pining for King!George and Knight!Dream so i chose to deliver
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Heart of Gold

The blond nine year old boy dashed across the frozen grounds of the castle’s courtyard, feet skidding on irregular patches of ice. Balance wavering, his knees buckled and he tilted, before righting himself once more and continuing to sprint through the December frost. There was a small hoot of enjoyment from him, barely imperceptible over the howling winds, as his imagination led him to believe he was being chased by the greatest of beasts.

The little prince watched this miniature fiasco take place, pale hands pressed against large icy glass panes, button nose and forehead squished in between. Large chocolate eyes darted in the direction that the blond boy ran until they strained to see a place that didn’t fall in the view of the large window. With an almost petulant - but more wistful - sigh, the boy slid off the window ledge and flopped down on his stone floor. His foot kicked out, nudging one of his stuffed animals, though without malicious intent. Although young, loneliness weighed down on his shoulders like a stiff, heavy blanket - the type that was last resort when all of your other blankets were being cleaned, and far too hot, sticking to your sweaty skin despite how much you tried to adjust it. 

Everyday, he grew more and more aware of the hushed tones from the court. _Such a young boy, why does he look so sad?_ which was often answered with _he doesn’t realise how much he has. He should be more grateful._ Low whispers followed him as he meandered in between “classes”, which were really just different tutors cycling through the day in the castle library. There was only so much he could tolerate of sitting in that dusty, stifling room, and he was always making up an excuse to leave during whatever breaks he had. 

What did they know about his sadness? Their parents probably spent time with them. They probably had heaps of friends, and weren’t forced to study royal etiquette. They were probably allowed to have pets to comfort them, birthday parties with kids their age, probably attended schools and got to go outside… he sighed, and flopped backwards on the floor, not minding the cold of the stone seeping through his clothes. His mind, his imagination, was all racing too fast for the boy prince to focus on anything else. He wanted a friend. He was tired of pretending that his stuffed animals were people, tired of reeking havoc in the royal kitchens just to feel a brief rush of serotonin. He wanted - no, he _needed_ a partner, someone that could play with him and share memories with him and love him as much as he would love them. 

His mind flashed to the blonde boy that was running through the courtyard, and he found himself pretending he was the one chasing the boy, both of them too exhilarated to pay any mind to the biting cold of late December. He could imagine them laughing, giggling, calling each other's names playfully as one chased the other down. Pushing each other into the downy snow-

The door to his chambers burst open, and in a scurry he sat up, hurriedly brushing down the front of his clothes to smooth them out. A tall figure stood in the doorway, posture impeccable and uniform speckless. His guard, Phil. 

“Prince George. Your father is requesting your presence in the throne room.”

The scuffed prince stood up, pushing his shaking hands into the shallow pockets of his trousers. It wasn’t often that his father, the King, called upon him, and whenever he did, it was never something good. As he followed Phil down corridors and grand staircases, he repressed a shudder. Whatever was waiting for him in the throne room wasn’t bound to be good, and he had already upset himself as it is.

His father wasn’t sitting on his throne, but rather stood at one of the side balconies of the large room, elbows perched on the spiraling quartz railing. He was dressed in simple riding garb: thick boots that went up to his knees to prevent his calves from chafing against the horse he would ride out on later, dark fur lined trousers to keep him warm from the stark winter. His regular cloak, that shimmered in sea-foam green and sage to represent the kingdom's colors, was traded out for a dark, leathery looking jacket. Hands with calluses that often cupped George’s head in an attempt of affection were tucked away in heavy duty gloves. He was leaving tonight, and a sinking feeling filled George’s stomach. The castle was going to feel infinitely empty without the familiarity of the King’s presence. 

“My son.” The king’s voice carried through the throne room, and little George standing in the doorway couldn’t suppress his shivers this time. He also couldn’t remember the last time his father had called him by his name. 

“There’s conflict overseas, between the Nether and End Kingdom. We weren’t supposed to get involved, but both kingdoms are calling upon the Overworld to settle the disputes, so I must go and assist before our allies tear each other apart.” He paused, but it was to take a breath rather than to hear what George had to say on the matter. “I’ll be back in two weeks time. Remember to attend your classes and stay out of everyone’s hair. Don’t bother your guards unless it’s an emergency.” 

This time, his pause was expectant, and the young prince shuffled his feet before replying.

“Stay safe, please.” His small voice carried, although timid. The king turned, and the ghost of a smile passed across his face. Ten years ago, he might’ve fully beamed at his son, but circumstances had come to pass and the tall man had since then put a stopper on his emotions. 

“I’ll be back in two weeks time,” he repeated. The tone in his voice was softer, however, and for a second the boy prince allowed himself to hope that his father was warming up to him, was _finally showing affection-_

His fantasies crashed down around him when the king turned and spoke, his voice frigid.

“Get cleaned up for supper. Your clothes are all rumpled. I’ll be riding out in an hour, so you’ll be eating alone.”

Giving no sign of acknowledgement to his father’s words, George turned and left the room, forcing himself to take deeper breaths. Princes should never be caught crying.

**Author's Note:**

> weeeewoooo i'm not the best writer ever so if it seems sloppy i'm sorry i don't have an editor but i'll try to have consistent uploads if i have motivation !!


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